


alive and well / dreaming dead

by mothman182



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-06 07:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17341565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothman182/pseuds/mothman182
Summary: we're driving toward the morning sunwhere all your blood is washed away and all you did will be undone





	alive and well / dreaming dead

**Author's Note:**

> are there a million nightmare fics in this fandom? yes. do i care? no. also i had to research 40s/southern/cajun slang so apologies if it's incorrect or sounds weird
> 
> this is only based on the characters and lore from the show and fandom, not at all about the real people
> 
> the song is taxi cab by twenty one pilots ✨ the whole song is a Big Mood for this fic

The unknown man’s face was so close to him, red and splotchy with blood and dirt. Blood bubbled from his mouth and fell on Sledge’s boots. Sledge looked him right in the eye as he died, and even in death the other man seemed to hold his gaze. Suddenly all of the other man's weight and the hot stink of flesh dropped on top of Sledge and he fumbled in an attempt to get away. He fell back into a makeshift foxhole, kicking his legs to try and put distance between them. But he couldn't shake the smells that suffocated him. Gunpowder. Blood. Mud. Salt. Sulfur. Shit. Piss. Vomit. His body didn't know whether to breathe or hold its breath. Either way he was going to suffocate, it didn't fucking matter. No oxygen in either of those situations.

Even with his lungs screaming, all Sledge could focus on was the man's face. He'd seen worse, so much worse. But he killed this man and he would never forget it. His voice failed him, as it often did, his body still trying to decide if it should be gasping like a fish or avoiding the toxic air. 

He tried to focus on something else. A distraction, a way out of this. But the sky was dark as ever and the land was still littered with bodies. Sledge was gonna die here. 

Sledge looked back at the man, but he wasn't the same. It was Snafu. Crumpled to the ground with blood seeping from his mouth and gushing from the hole in his chest. It was so much blood. His forehead was pressed on the ground but his head was tilted enough so Sledge could see his face. He was smiling into the dirt.

“Hey there, boo.” Snaf's teeth were dark orange-red and he laughed. “Why'd you kill me?”

Panic, unbridled panic and guilt and shame seized Sledge in his tracks. His blood ran cold and his world stopped. It wasn't Snafu. It couldn't be. There had to have been a mistake. The other man had pale skin and short black hair. Sledge swore it. There's no way he could've mistaken him for Snafu. It was impossible.

“Eugene, why did you kill me?” His voice was so calm, mouth still curled into a smile. But when Sledge met Snaf’s eyes they were overflowing with tears.

He cried out suddenly, “Eugene, _ANSWER ME!”_ His big blue eyes ripping through Sledge like a bullet.

Sledge couldn’t reply. The stench of blood filled his nose and he could taste it in his mouth. He couldn’t stand to hold his breath anymore, gasping and choking on the hot air. Coal and dirt and blood was collecting in his lungs and he couldn't stop it. Shelton’s body kept looking at him, silently demanding an answer. He bared his teeth as more and more blood bubbled and slid out around them.

“Eugene, wake up.”

Eugene came to almost immediately. He was already gasping for air, shakes wracking his small frame. Trying to manage coughing and breathing and crying at the same time. But he could at least stand to taste the air now. For a moment, he could smell sweat and laundry detergent and Snaf, but it didn't last long. The waves of nausea were still relentless. He felt Snafu, a strong, warm weight against Eugene’s body. It lifted some of the anxiety but it by no means vanquished it.

His eyes fluttered open and wiped away the tears. They were sitting up, tightly pressed together. Eugene's hands were on his wet cheeks and his knees were up under his chin. He could feel Shelton’s bare torso through his sweat-soaked shirt and the sensation felt disgusting.

Instinctively, he checked the room around him. Dresser, the night sky through the windows, closet _someone could be in that fucking closet_ , the do-

“Hey now, snap out of it, Sledgehammer. You're home. I'm right here," Shelton’s familiar voice drawled. Not angry. Not accusing. Not dead. Eugene could feel Snafu’s lips against his hair as he talked, a calloused hand on his opposite shoulder rubbing softly.

“I'm gonna be sick,” Eugene rasped, reluctantly breaking away from Snafu to get to the bathroom. He swore he could still taste filth and blood and death on his tongue and his stomach believed him. Tears still rolled down his face too fast to wipe them all away.

Eugene made it to the toilet in time, kneeling in front before he retched into the water. Remnants of whatever he had for dinner emptied from Sledge's mouth and his stomach lurched.

Snafu’s voice reverberated around the bathroom walls a few moments later. He sounded small and far away, almost cautious. “Y’wanna be left alone?”

Eugene considered it for a moment, panting. “Yeah just. Gimme a minute," He sobbed, sucking in a harsh breath.

He sat there, trembling, trying to muffle his cries into his hands. Alone. Maybe he should've said no, maybe he should've let Shelton stay with him. He'd rub Sledge's back, kiss the side of his head and reassure him that he was safe, that everything would be okay. These were acts of kindness Sledge never would have imagined someone called Snafu was capable of back in the Pacific. Though he supposed it made sense back then.

_Situation normal; all fucked up._

There were moments, small glimpses of what was now normal for the two of them, but Snaf never dwelled there long back then. A touch of a hand, a smile, sides pressed together in the sunlight, a shared cigarette. There was no time for pleasantries in war, but Sledge cherished every one Snaf offered.

Sledge felt like there would always be war inside him no matter how hard he tried to wash it away or vomit it up. Stuck underneath his fingernails or settled between his teeth. Hung heavy in the knots in his back and in the marrow of his bones. All he wanted was to be rid of it, of all these awful feelings and memories, but he knew he'd have to tear himself open and claw them out.

His stomach clenched, and Eugene vomited again.

He sat there, shuddering, breathing through this the best he could. It was easier now. He tried to think of something else as he felt energy drain out of him and he grew faint. He wanted Snaf, he wanted to go back to bed, but he felt so weak. He didn't think he could cry anymore.

There were two taps against the open bathroom door.

Sledge turned towards the noise, trying not to show how it startled him. He didn't feel sick anymore, just tired-eyed and sweaty. He knew he probably looked like shit.

“Got some tea going fo ya, Gene.”

Eugene spit what was left in his mouth into the toilet and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Thank you,” He exhaled, leaning back to hold himself up with his hands on the floor. 

Snafu walked forwards and put a hand on top of Eugene’s head, petting him softly. Eugene looked up as a sly grin stretched across Snafu's mouth. 

“It's ginger,” he mumbled as rubbed a thumb over Eugene’s cheekbone, “fo the ginger.”

Eugene rolled his eyes and smiled against his better judgement. “Very funny, Snafu.”

Snaf’s eyes crinkled in the corners in a shy smile. He helped Eugene up with a hand around his chest, flushed the toilet and kissed Sledge’s cheek. His bare skin radiated heat against Eugene's clammy torso.

Snafu pulled back to look in Eugene’s eyes for a moment. They always captivated Eugene. So bright and blue in contrast to Shelton’s dark features. He felt his heart tug in his chest looking at Snafu's long eyelashes, down to small scars scattered across his face. Shrapnel, Eugene figured. Constellations of white between tan skin. Eugene wanted to trace them with his fingertips.

A firm squeeze on Eugene’s back broke him out of his trance. “Wash ya mouth out. I’ll be back.”

Snafu left again, but Eugene still felt safe. He could handle this, he was a grown fucking man. He took a deep breath and tried not to chastise himself. He washed his hands before he let the water pool in his palms. 

Snafu had just as many nightmares as he did. Just as many tears shed, just as much time Eugene spent holding him close to his chest. It wasn't a contest of who could forget the fastest or who could bury their trauma the deepest. Snafu never made Eugene feel that way, he only had himself to blame. Snafu had been surprisingly supportive and understanding, if anything. It still surprised Eugene, even now. This man was almost unrecognizable to the cold, heartless marine Sledge knew on Pavuvu and Okinawa. The man Sledge witnessed carve out teeth from dead soldiers’ jaws and throw debris into an open skull. He was by no means perfect, but he had made leaps and bounds of improvement. 

Eugene swished the water in his mouth and spit it out, repeating the process a few times before turning the water off. 

He thought of going to the kitchen, but he was too tired. He decided just to go back to bed. Snafu would be back, he reminded himself. He wasn't going to leave him again. 

Eugene shucked off his shirt, drenched in sweat and clinging to his body uncomfortably. It was still hard to breathe. It was always harder when he was alone. Sledge wasn’t used to coaching himself through these attacks. He and Snafu had been together long enough that they had each other’s backs when it came to shit like this. Shit that even the corpsmen would’ve handled by telling them to shut the fuck up and deal with it. Eugene understood, those guys had more to worry about than someone having a nightmare or a flashback. That made Eugene feel even worse.

These thoughts were _nothing_ compared to what others had to go through. Eugene still had his fingers, his legs, his arms, his ears. What a privilege to only dream of losing them.

Was he ever going to get past this? Would there ever be a time when he could handle holding a gun without breaking down? Hear a car backfire without wincing? Or deal with fireworks on Fourth of July? The day he was supposed to be out celebrating the very thing still haunting him? Would these fucking nightmares ever go away?

He was spiraling, he knew he was.

Eugene took a deep breath and ran his hands over his face. He grabbed a clean shirt and put it on before sitting down on the bed. His hands covered his eyes again. It was okay. He was gonna be okay. Snaf was in the kitchen. Eugene was in their bedroom. He was safe. It would be okay to relax. He was safe. He was safe. 

No matter how much he tried to convince himself he was fine he felt his muscles tighten involuntarily. The muscles in his chest felt like they were swelling over his lungs. His hands pressed against his eyebrows as he tried to keep his head from breaking apart.

“Gene?”

Eugene didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to know what was behind them. What if this was a dream? What if Snaf was dead, what if he was dying? He didn’t want to dream anymore. He was safer in the darkness. He was safer where he could hide.

The bed dipped next to him and all Eugene could think of was the dreaded feeling of a wet corpse slumping against him again. The weight settled in front of him. 

Two warm hands gently grabbed his wrists, smoothing over the back of Eugene’s hands with their thumbs. Were they gonna slit his wrists? Leave him to bleed out? What the fuck was wrong with Eugene. What kind of useless soldier just sits there and lets the enemy kill him without a fight.

“Talk to me, Sledge.” 

Eugene let out a shaky breath. Nothing was gonna get past his throat to make words. Tears dribbled down his hands. He couldn’t do it.

“Ya don’t gotta, I s’pose. But it sure would be helpful.”

One hand around Eugene’s wrist slid towards his palm, gently trying to pull it away from his face but Eugene recoiled in response. The hand retreated immediately and they both settled back as they were before. There was a sigh.

“C’mon, Sledge, I ain’t a one man show. Ya gotta open ya eyes ‘fore I can do much else. It’s safe out here, I promise.”

Tempting. 

“I’d say I don’t bite but ya know that ain’t true.” Eugene could hear the smirk and sincerity around the words. 

A smile pulled at the edges of Eugene’s mouth. The rational part of his brain broke through the surface of his panicked mind. Why would Shelton lie to him? 

He reluctantly moved his hands away from his face. The fingers at his wrists grabbed his hands and settled them down into Eugene’s lap.

The lights were too bright for a moment and Eugene squinted. Both of the warm hands tenderly wiped away his tears.

Eugene let go of the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. 

Snafu backed up to give him space. Air was coming more easily now and Eugene tried to focus on that the most. All he could do was look at Snafu. This deranged killer, this terrifying man, waiting on Sledge’s command. Eugene never felt more safe.

Eugene opened his chest up, and Snaf fell right into his embrace.

They held each other close, close enough that they matched each other's breaths. Words didn't need to be spoken. All they needed was the understanding that they were there for each other. The simplest way to start breathing is to find a rhythm in someone else's.

It was commonplace in the Pacific. They couldn't make noise so all they could do was squeeze together, so tight so that they could be sure one another was alive. The bare minimum source of comfort.

Eventually Snaf managed to push Eugene over on his back once their breaths had evened out for a good amount of time.

Their bodies always fit together so easily. The action surprised Eugene, but he wasn't scared. It didn't seem like the motion was hurried or done with any particular motive. Eugene's breathing held steady as Snafu moved his slender body to cuddle against Eugene’s.

“Tea's probably cold now,” Snafu murmured against the side of Sledge’s neck. His hand was comforting against the pale skin of Eugene's hip.

“That's alright.”

Eugene felt himself shiver. He felt much better, but all the puking and crying took a lot out of him. 

“Awh, pauvre ti bête,” He heard Snafu murmur over him as he ran his knuckles against Eugene’s forehead. 

Sledge huffed and pulled at the covers. “C’mon, Snaf, enough of that frog-eater talk. Just say what you mean.”

“Don’t think ya’d like what I mean, _cher,"_ Snaf smirked, pinching Eugene’s cheek with his opposite hand. With a groan of annoyance, Eugene pushed Snafu's hand away and ran the back of his hand over his cheek.

“Fuck off.” 

It always annoyed Eugene when Snaf talked in his weird part English part Cajun part French, as if he didn't already have trouble understanding the other man sometimes.

“You mus’ be feelin’ better,” Snafu laughed before he rolled on top of Sledge. It caught Eugene off guard and he squirmed under Snafu's weight. The intense look in Shelton’s eyes captured Sledge and he stopped moving.

After a few moments of silence, Snafu pressed a soft kiss on Sledge’s mouth. It somehow felt chaste and intense at the same time. Sledge leaned into it and skimmed his fingers along Snafu's bare ribs.

Snafu pulled back just enough so their noses were touching. They almost had to go cross-eyed to see each other properly.

“Go back ta sleep, Sledge,” Shelton said before kissing Eugene's forehead and rolling back to his side of the bed. The bedside lamp turned off, leaving the room painted in a pale blue light. He settled under the covers with his back facing Eugene.

Sledge spent a good amount of time admiring Snafu's shoulders in the moonlight. They were freckled from all the time out in the sun, a few pink and white scars standing out in contrast with his brown skin.

He shuffled closer and wrapped an arm around Snafu's chest, pulling their bodies together under the covers. 

Snafu’s hand grabbed Eugene's and pressed it over his beating heart.

He was alive. Heart pumping, lungs expanding and contracting. Pushing and pulling steady breaths out of Eugene in tandem with his own.

In moments like these, Eugene felt peace was within his reach. A small scene suspended in time. Away from Pavuvu, away from Okinawa. In this moment it was just them.

He could finally breathe.


End file.
